


A Deluge of Consequence

by raiyana



Series: Nwalin works [7]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M, Nwalin Week, Quest of Erebor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 02:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19843873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: Spending days being wet and chilled isn't at all good for a Dwarf.Nwalin Week 19, Day 5: Hot or Cold





	A Deluge of Consequence

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't have time during Nwalin week for much writing, but this morning I felt inspired by one of the prompts xD

Nori sneezed, rubbing his dripping nose with an annoyed glance past the fabric of his hood. He shivered, feeling the cold chill in his bones and longing for the warmth of an inn or even just the dryness of a farmer’s barn. Anything so long as it wasn’t more of this never-ending rain! It had soaked them all to the bone by now; even Nori, whose cloak was the most weatherproof money could buy. _Dwalin_ had looked at it with envy, even, and _he_ was hard to impress when it came to these things.

Of course, Dwalin had probably wondered who he’d nicked it off, Nori admitted, drawing the damp fabric closer around himself and pretending that his teeth didn’t want to chatter with cold. The pony blew water off its nose in a sneeze, as though she, too, wanted to complain about the weather, and Nori couldn’t blame her; he, too, agreed with Dori that this deluge was unnatural.

 _Of course_ the Wizard couldn’t do anything about the rain – aside from that darkness trick at Bag End, Tharkûn had not exactly turned out to be a magical acquaintance, and Nori silently wondered how much use he’d be against the Dragon. But that was for the nobs among them to decide, after all, though even Thorin struggled to look majestic soaked to the skin.

Dwalin still managed to look menacing, of course, in the way that only Dwalin seemed to, the way that made a small ball of warmth appear – and that _was_ magical – in his stomach, liquid pooling of lust in his groin as he stared at Dwalin’s broad back. His green cloak was rain-dark, too, of course, the handles of his axes familiar silhouette, strong legs squeezing around his pony, his voice muttering small encouragements that Nori could only just make out.

It didn’t matter.

He knew that gruff-but-kind voice, could imagine it so easily whispering praise into his ear, telling him to keep going, telling him that he was doing _so well_ , telling him that he was _almost there_ …

“Yer alright, Nori?” Dwalin asked, reaching out to steady Nori who seemed to be swaying gently in the saddle.

A loud sneeze answered him, Nori turning his head to stare at him with glassy eyes and a smile that was far too sweet.

“Dwalin….” he breathed, and dammit if that smile didn’t grow sweeter, making Dwalin’s heart beat swifter. “Cold.”

He seemed it, body trembling beneath Dwalin’s heavy hand as he listed sideways. No wonder, really, with this sodding rain, but Dwalin felt a small stab of worry, moving his hand to cup Nori’s cheek, feeling his skin burn against his palm.

Nori leaned into the touch, feeling like a cat getting pets from its favourite person – it wouldn’t have surprised him if he had been purring – his eyes falling shut, Dwalin’s blue eyes looking at him like he cared about Nori which was preposterous, of course, but too sweet to protest.

With a small smile, Nori fell.

“Mahal’s beard!” Dwalin exclaimed, barely able to fist his hand in Nori’s cloak to keep him upright when he went limp. Manoeuvring his own pony – he’d named her Jasper, for her red-brown spotted coat – closer to Nori’s, he got a better hold, barely stopping to think about it before he had lifted Nori onto Jasper, seating him sideways in front of him. “Thorin!” he bellowed, the slight sting of fear he couldn’t quell making his voice shaky. “Óin!” Nori’s chilled fingers sought beneath his shirt, finding warm skin and Dwalin shivered. The Thief definitely had a fever, but his fingers were _cold_. Dwalin cursed, spurring Jasper to catch up with Beryl.

“Dwalin?” Thorin asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Nori, drooping auburn braids barely visible beneath the hood, tugged in tight against Dwalin’s chest.

“Nori’s ill,” Dwalin said. “He’s got a fever, and I can hardly make him wake up… he almost fainted off his pony.”

“We look for a place to camp,” Thorin replied, staring into the rainy gloom and hoping for a convenient cave that failed to materialise. “Fall back and let Óin have a look, Dwal.”

They hadn’t found a cave, but the large tree that sheltered them was enough that their fire wouldn’t die out, and each dwarf sat gently steaming by the flames while Bombur got to getting on with some supper.

“A bad fever and lung-rattle,” Óin proclaimed, “we need some willow bark and feverfew tea, Dori, dear,” he added, not unkindly, chivvying Nori’s siblings away from the smaller fire by the patient and towards the pot of boiling water that Bombur had already prepared. Glancing at Dwalin, hovering just outside the fire, yearning writ large across his face, Óin smiled to himself. Glóin had been right, then, about the Guardsdwarf having a better than average eye to the Thief of their Company.

Well, that was only for the good, so far as Óin was concerned. His cousin could do with a bit of loving, and if Nori was amenable to that he thought they could rub on well together.

“I don’t think he’ll die, cousin,” Óin added, putting away his listening tube and pulling a small jar of Mender for Congestion from his bag. He was really quite proud of his range of Menders, ‘Óin’s To Mend’ as he’d called them, though everyone but him seemed to have adopted the slang term ointments. “Could you rub this on his chest, though? I need to check on the rest of us. If Nori is this ill, chances are someone else is beginning to feel sick.”

Dwalin’s head spun gently, staring down at Nori, nestled in his bedroll and covered by several spare blankets, looking between him and the small jar in his hand. Kneeling beside Nori, he shook him gently by the shoulder.

“Nori?” he whispered, not hearing Óin’s soft words, barely feeling the clap on his shoulder as the Healer walked off to the main fire. “Nori, can you hear me?”

“Mmmm… Dwal… big…” Nori mumbled deliriously. Then he blinked, that sweet smile that Dwalin’s lost heart couldn’t handle spreading across his face again as he stared up at Dwalin. “Hello Dwalin,” Nori coughed, falling weakly back onto the bedroll when it was over.

“Óin says you should rub this on your chest,” Dwalin muttered brusquely, thrusting the jar towards Nori.

“Yes…” Nori nodded, fever-glassy eyes blinking rapidly. Lifting his hand about halfway, he let it fall back down with a groan.

“May I…” Dwalin flushed, gesturing at Nori’s shirt, “…help you?”

Nori nodded, eyes half-hidden beneath heavy eyelids.

Dwalin pulled the cork stopper from the jar, setting the pungent ointment besides Nori’s head.

Nori sneezed, eyes watering. “Strong,” he croaked, wincing.

Dwalin chuckled. “A tad, yes,” he agreed, carefully undoing the laces at Nori’s throat, tugging his shirt open enough to get a hand underneath the fabric. Tugging the blankets up higher, Dwalin scooped up a bit of the pungent goop.

Nori’s skin was softer than expected, a light dusting of hair scattered across his chest as Dwalin spread the ointment beneath the shirt, careful to keep his eyes on Nori and trying to convince his body that this was _medical only_ , even though he knew that was doomed to fail.

“So gentle…” Nori hummed, still smiling. “Big hands… I like big…”

Dwalin’s ears burned with possibilities, his fingers moving slowly over Nori’s skin as Nori’s rattling snore filled the air around them. The ointment seemed to help, though, easing his breathing slowly as Dwalin kept rubbing warmth into his skin.

Finally, he couldn’t defend a medical purpose to his actions anymore, pulling his hands out of Nori’s shirt and retying the laces. Allowing himself one small caress, rubbing his fingers along Nori’s upper arm and smiling to himself at the feel of at least one hidden dagger, Dwalin got to his feet, tugging the blanks up to Nori’s throat and tucking them around his slight shivering body.

Looking up from Nori’s sleeping form, Dwalin flushed under the scrutiny of Dori, well-aware that she was capable of punching out more than his lights if she so desired.

Dori said nothing, raising an eyebrow that said more than enough, and moved past him, coaxing Nori back to enough wakefulness to swallow the bitter tea.

“Dwalin.” Dori said, making him stop in his tracks and turn around.

“Dori?” he asked, carefully neutral.

“I thank you,” Dori murmured, stroking Nori’s hair gently. “For saving him a busted skull, at the very least.”

Dwalin bowed, turning back towards the larger fire where Bombur had begun to hand out deliciously hot stew.

“You should speak to him,” Dori added.

Dwalin froze.

“I have seen the way you look at my brother,” Dori continued, breezing over the involuntary sound that escaped Dwalin – equal parts surprise, fear, and bloody _yearning_ – at her words. “I will do much for my brothers, Dwalin,” she added, “keep that in mind.”

Dwalin nodded.

He felt at once heavy and strangely lightheaded when he sank down beside Balin, distractedly smiling at the Burglar when he handed over a bowl of stew. Dori’s words rung in his head.

Had he been given tacit approval – or a subtle warning?


End file.
